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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26263711">The Farthest End of the World</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtysweatshirt/pseuds/dirtysweatshirt'>dirtysweatshirt</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, FAR: Lone Sails inspired, M/M, Minor Character Death, Rating May Change</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:40:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,468</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26263711</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtysweatshirt/pseuds/dirtysweatshirt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Eren travels to the end of the earth in search of another living soul.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jean Kirstein/Eren Yeager</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Farthest End of the World</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ever since he was a boy, Eren dreamt of a world he wasn’t born into. A world of unlimited hues, a world where storms weren’t nearly so wicked, where Eren has a kid his age he considered a friend or two. The lively, robust worlds he read about in worn storybooks, the forgotten reality recounted in tattered texts labeled <strong>history</strong>. Though, Eren knows little about the history of the world he was born into. Did other little boys and girls his age exist? A mother and a father and a stuffed bear named Teddy is the only reality Eren knew. </p><p> </p><p>This world, the one Eren was born into, exists in shades of gray, faded reds and faded blues. Slivers of green if not for the reflection staring back at him. Sometimes, the little boy spent hours perched in front of the family’s mirror, cracked around the edges, a gash running diagonally through the length, speaking at it, at <em>himself</em>, wishing and hoping his reflected visage would say something back to him for a change. </p><p> </p><p>But it was him, it was always him answering his own lonely bellows.</p><p> </p><p>A finger runs through the chilled water against the coast, Eren knew someone else was out there. A seagull squawks mere feet away, Eren swore he’d someday travel to the ends of this earth to find them, to shake their hand and introduce himself as Eren Yeager, <em>a friend</em>.</p><p> </p><p>The sun met the horizon of the endless sea, as it had every day and every night. Bright eyes gaze into the ocean to meet the bright eyes looking back—proof life existed. The gull making its presence known once again with the emitted clap of its wings, flying away—proof life persisted. The sunrise, the sunset, the ripples of water in that endless sea, the hymns of wind cutting through the air promising a storm—Eren wasn’t alone in this world. </p><p> </p><p>Somewhere, someplace, someone was experiencing this sunset too. </p><p> </p><p>࿐</p><p> </p><p><em>Grisha Yeager, a father, a husband, hope</em>, the second person the sixteen year old knew in this entire world lie to rest. Second to know, second to lose. The earth consuming the patriarch was cold and hard and the father’s son bored overhead, eyes red and tired and adorned with tiny blood vessels painting him a madman. </p><p> </p><p>Those bloodshot eyes could cry no more as he bid his father goodbye. </p><p> </p><p>Dark boots turn on their heel against the gray sludged foundation, the trail in which he came still embedded into the snow. The shovel tailing behind Eren, he makes his way back to the only home he ever knew. Something chilling watched him every step of the way, as if the still eyes of his father’s portrait left at the memorial site breathed life once again.</p><p> </p><p>He shook off a shiver as he turned the knob to an empty house. No mother, no father. All that remained was his Teddy, a distorted reflection, and Eren himself. </p><p> </p><p>His brain runs on autopilot. One stair, then another ‘til worn rubber soles pressure the floorboards of the tiny room at the very top of the Yeager estate to creak. Knees hit the mattress, dirty, off-white and <em>old</em>, Eren then falls into his bed face first. </p><p> </p><p>Minutes turn into hours, the gray sunlight bathing the room morphs into pale moonlight. He’s awake, so painfully awake. Shallow breaths without a single thought woven into his psyche. Just <em>existing</em>. </p><p> </p><p>Eventually, Eren blindly reaches for Teddy, the smooth of his palm skidding over the sheetless mattress, ‘til he pads over matted fur. The stuffed bear is yanked forcefully to his chest, grip like a vise. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s almost ready, Teddy,” A shaky whisper and dry tears, the brink of exhaustion, “We won’t be alone anymore.” </p><p> </p><p>Eren doesn’t dream. </p><p> </p><p>࿐</p><p> </p><p>A jolt of electricity conducts to calloused fingers, “Goddamnit!” It’s only the fifty-third time in two years, Eren’s kept count. Day in and day out spent in, atop, and underneath a behemoth of a machine fussing over wiring—all Eren had was time to keep count of each instance live wires delivered him a non-lethal shock. </p><p> </p><p>This behemoth was his father’s legacy. A megalith of human achievement. Eren’s driving force and he’d see through to its completion even if it took until his bitter end.</p><p> </p><p>࿐</p><p> </p><p>X’s of black and red, of hastily scribbled graphite count the days. His methods of timekeeping weren’t perfect, but Eren reckons he’s nineteen now, reckons he’s nineteen to the very day. </p><p> </p><p>The nineteen year old looks to his stuffed companion, matted fur and missing the left eye, Eren scoffs, “Well aren't you going to wish me a happy birthday, Teddy?” </p><p> </p><p>Nothing but silence and the hum of whipping wind.</p><p> </p><p>“You know,” He rolls his eyes, “You can be so rude sometimes.” </p><p> </p><p>࿐</p><p> </p><p>Dawn delivered thick ropes of fog, draping a gray film over the horizon, but Eren still managed to feel particularly <em>alive</em> today drinking in the mark of day. The colors were muted, they were almost always muted, but sharp green eyes could still make out blues and oranges. </p><p> </p><p>There’s a smile on his face, dopey and fueled with ecstasy. There’s flecks of grease spotted over his arms, his clothes, a dark spot on his cheek he accidentally ran his fingers over. He’s filthy, he’s exhausted, his veins are thrumming with hope.</p><p> </p><p><em>It’s done</em>.</p><p> </p><p>When Eren was a little boy, this milestone played over and over in his head—how there’d be happy tears streaming down his face, how his father would be standing beside him, patting him on the back, gaze focused on their accomplishment. <em>Together</em>. Eren’s younger counterpart pictured his mother hastily making her way from their home after he excitedly called out, “Mom! Mom! It’s done! Mom, come look!” And the woman would clasp her hands together at the sight, she’d kiss her son and her husband on the cheek.</p><p> </p><p>But Carla disappeared years ago, swallowed by the chalky haze that blanketed Eren now, and Grisha’s life force gave out some time after.</p><p> </p><p>It was just Eren now. Eren and his greasy elbows, Eren and Teddy, Eren and the off-red vehicle before him, the paint growing weathered over the years of bearing the elements outside of the Yeager home.</p><p> </p><p>There were no tears and no celebratory utters.</p><p> </p><p>Eren enters the vehicle through the stern, the few motion sensor lights coming alive and leaving the interior still overwhelmingly dim. He files away a mental note to bring a few lamps on board prior to leaving. </p><p> </p><p>Marvelling, slender fingers run over the paneling. Every nook and cranny. Awed, just like the first time all those years ago. Eren sees him, psyche providing every minute detail of the man, sees his father standing in the elevator beside him.</p><p> </p><p><em>Son, one day this will all be yours</em>, Grisha tells the boy with eyes comically wide, something shocked, <em>all my life has been dedicated to this</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Eren feels himself nodding, lips pressed into a line. This was his duty, his dream. A duty and a dream finally come to fruition. He looks proud, the apparition before him—the <em>hallucination</em>, he’s still unsure, but he knows he’s proud, knows Carla is proud too.</p><p> </p><p>The phantom image of his father dematerializes. </p><p> </p><p>Two days in passing, Eren’s lugging up few earthly possessions, the aforementioned lamps, notebooks, Teddy, rations, photos of Carla and Grisha. It’s bittersweet now standing alone in the machine. It wasn’t supposed to be this way, but he persists, presses on, just as life and its wicked storms.</p><p> </p><p>The raven haired man steps out of the vehicle, his family home appearing in the viewfinder of green eyes, wonders how long the rickety building stood on this very earth. Eren wishes he’d asked, wishes he’d picked his father’s brain more, wishes he’d tugged at his mother’s shirt more with chubby four year old hands inquiring about everything and anything. And there’s a sting in those green eyes and a hitch in his breath, a tightness of his throat. </p><p> </p><p>He weeps, falling to splintered floors, weeps years worth of grief, unearthed and overdue. </p><p> </p><p>Goodbyes come when the sun begins to set in the western skies and the moon still hides beneath the horizons and despite the tears and the hurt, Eren feels revitalized, anew. Rejuvenated, like he’s found his purpose again.</p><p> </p><p>Rubbish fuels the engine now roaring, the fuel glowing a bright aquamarine. It’s beautiful, he thinks, swears it’s the most vibrant color he’s ever seen. </p><p> </p><p>Teddy is pressed against his chest, the pair bidding a final goodbye as the empty Yeager estate shrinks in size, bit by bit, from multi-storied to as small as a pebble and then it’s gone, a memory now, but Eren will always remember, always know it existed. </p><p> </p><p>His family existed just as their shared home. Eren exists and by God he knows a friend exists too. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hellur this is honestly the first time i'm ever posting a fic on the internet so u know 1 fear. shout out 2 my homie for letting me outright steal the name of this fic bc i was 3.5 seconds from having a stroke trying to come up with a title. anyway thanks for reading! next chapter will be out.... when it is</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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